Worth The Shot

Moonlit Caller

And because you were up at midnight, you heard the rock that softly clattered to your floor from the open window.

You stiffened and sat up in bed, listening for movement. You only heard leaves flipping in the breeze and the melodic lilt of crickets. Tentatively, you swung your legs over the bed and closed your fingers around the rough surface of the rock.

Your breath caught in surprise as you saw a ripped sliver of paper tied around the rock with a brown string.

You fumbled to untie the string and unfolded the paper. A message was scrawled in cramped handwriting.

Look outside. Or don't.

You smiled despite yourself, and quietly crept to your window, resting your hands on its ledge. You squinted, trying to see in the dim moonlight that pooled onto the grass.

There.

A shadowy figure emerged from the bushes. You froze. It wasn't Camilo.

It was Bruno, caped with an emerald robe and a threatening aura. His glowing, green eyes locked with yours and he gave a sinister grin.

"HE-" You started to scream for help, but Bruno snapped into the form of Camilo. Camilo apologetically extended the palms of his hands toward you, trying to quiet you from the ground. He shook from silent laughter.

Your heartbeat pounding from the scare, you tore a sheet of paper from your notebook and furiously wrote, That wasn't funny. Go away.

You glowered at Camilo and chucked the rock by his feet. Camilo eagerly bent down and unwrapped the message. He mockingly threw you a tragically wounded expression and propped the paper against his leg to write something.

Okay, I'm sorry. That was mean. Come outside?

Camilo hopefully watched your reaction to his request. You ripped more from your notebook and penned, Can't. My father sleeps downstairs. He'd catch me.

Camilo's disappointed frown almost made you wish you could soar out of the window like a bird and run away with him. You rested your cheek against your hand, watching him write.

Clack. Camilo pitched the rock back up with a grin.

Fine. Let's be forbidden rock penpals.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at his dramatic use of the word "forbidden."

Why does my dad hate you? You wrote back.

Camilo read the paper and shrugged his shoulders. Maybe because I'm devastatingly handsome? And charming?

No. You hurled the rock down.

Camilo paused, thinking, then bent over his paper, writing with a focused expression. His brow was furrowed as he carefully tied the paper on. I don't want to stay away from you.

Then don't. I might miss you.

Camilo smirked as he tossed back up the rock. Yeah, you would. And I'd miss making you blush.

Flustered, you tried not to react. Camilo tilted his head with a cheeky smile.

What did Bruno's fancy prophecy puzzle show? You wrote, changing the subject. You had almost forgotten about your face in the prophecy. Why hadn't they told you yet?

Worried, Camilo started to furiously write, but you both were startled by the sound of your door creaking open.

Your abuela scowled in the dull moonlight of your room. "I can hear the clicking and the clacking, (y/n). Go to sleep." You exhaled. It wasn't your father.

"Yes, abuela." You apologized, blocking the open window with your body. She plodded out, and Camilo rushed away. You'd almost been caught.

But he left one last message.

Tomorrow night, forbidden rock penpal.